La Nostra Famiglia
by YourDarkMistress
Summary: Feliciano and Lovino share a quiet dinner with their ailing father. However, all is not as it seems. There is something sinister about Feliciano and for Lovino this can only mean trouble. Their father must watch as his family tears itself apart. Mafia AU.


**A/N:** Just to get this out of the way, Romolo is Ancient Rome; Romolo is Italian for Romulus. For Logic's sake, I make him Feli and Lovi's father, not grandfather. Happy reading!

**Nostra Famiglia**

"Ah," Romolo sighed, leaning back in his chair and patting on his full stomach. It bulged against the table and he had to push away to fit entirely. "Is'a so nice to'a see my little boys a getting' along. I'ya use to think that we never get to'a have dinner like this anymore!"

The old Don's tone was jovial and the smile on his face spoke naught of his deteriorating physical condition. He was falling apart, and that was part of the reason why he had called his children together to eat. Feliciano and Lovino never spent time with him anymore, at least not together, and it bothered the man more than he let the world see.

Feliciano smiled happily and spooned some more sauce into his bowl, which was now devoid. The crust of his bread became his spoon as he swiped it up and deposited it happily in his mouth. He moaned when the taste hit his tongue. "We wouldn't miss it for the world, Papa! You're such a good cook too; I miss your food so much! I don't get this at home."

Lovino scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. A light blush was permanently painted over his cheeks and he tried not to look at his younger brother. "Che, I came because you don't got much time left, Papa, and I' don' wanna be the kid who didn' take advantage of the time he has, especially when-in he's been so distant." Romolo chuckled, cutting himself some more bread and asking his son to pass the butter. It had risen to room temperature and spread easily.

"Don'a you worry abou' that, Lovino, I' know-in you got'a lot a goin' on at'a your house now. How many more weeks?"

The young man cleared his throat. "Six."

Romolo sighted, clasping his hands together and dawning a dreamy appearance. "Ah, _nipotini_! I'm a so excited! Have'a you thought'a any good names yet?"

Lovino shook his head, his telltale Vargas curl bouncing from side to side. The man tried to tuck it behind his ear but it sent a shiver down his spine that made the rest of his family laugh. "Bella has a few in mind, but I haven' thought a any yet. She don' wanna know if it's a boy or a girl."

Feliciano twirled a sterling silver fork in his fingers and leaned on his elbows. "You would love a little girl, Lovi. Someone cute and sweet to dress up and play with."

"Che, I don' think I could handle another woman in the house."

"No Lovino! I'a think a so too!" Romolo said enthusiastically, splaying his fingers out on the table while he chewed the crust of his bread. "You would'ah do good with a little _principessa_! Ah, I can ah see it now! Little dresses, little shoes, dolls, pink! Like you when you were tiny~"

Feliciano cleared his throat, capturing his father's attention. Romolo chuckled and scratched his head. "But ah, you know, thats'a not a my decision, right? _Felicino_, you need a to fin' a nice woman an knock her over!"

"Knock her up, Papa." Lovino corrected without looking at his father. He played absently with the dangles handing from the tablecloth.

"Yeah, that. Ma little boy need'a get'a nice wife an a nice baby. You canna be happy without'e _famiglia_!"

"I have a _famiglia_, Papa!" the youngest countered quickly, his smile faltering. "I can't take care of babies and a wife if I have such a big _famiglia_ already!"

Romolo shook his head and 'tsk'ed. "Mah poor'a little baby~ So diluded!" He chided. Feliciano's face reddened with anger. "You canna be'a happy without 'avin' ah' nice little _famiglia_! I'ma tha happiest man alive, but'a y'kno, is only because of my babies. _Lovino e Feliciano_."

"Yeah, Feli," Lovino said. He did not disguise his sarcasm or spite. "You needa get a nice family like'a your big brother." He stuck out his tongue when his father looked away. Feliciano flipped him the bird.

For a moment there was silence before Romolo spoke again. "Is's everythn' settlin' out a'right? You know, so that'a when-in th' _bambino_ gets here you not'a gonna have'ta worry about'a shootout?"

Lovino sent a scathing look towards his brother but remained otherwise composed. He smiled as sincerely as he could and attempted to put his father's fears to rest. "It's alright, Papa. Nobody's gonna try and hurt _mia famiglia_, not my _bambino_. I've'a taken special precautions to protect my family. New help, you know?" From the corner of his eye he saw his brother's mouth twitch and fists clench tightly in his lap.

"Oh yeh, I'ya heard abou' that. You gettin' a nice, eh, nice boy from _Spagna_? Big, tall, eh?" He nudged the air beside him repeatedly, winking as he did.

Lovino blushed. "Papa, I'm married."

He laughed. "It'a never stop me!"

Through the cacophony of laughter that followed, Feliciano smirked at his brother, wagging his eyebrows. The older brother dragged a finger across his neck.

"I got some more help too, Papa! A German! He's not the brightest but he's so full of muscle bullets bounce right off him!"

Romolo raised an eyebrow. "Ah, really? I had a German once. He call'a himself Aldrich. Best help I had, until he tried'a to push'a me outta window." The younger boys said nothing as their father reminisced wistfully. "He was hit by-in an ice cream truck. Poor fool neva saw it a'commin'."

Though the man enjoyed his reminiscence of times old the younger boys found the topic to be extremely unnerving. Feliciano widened his eyes and bobbed his head, a clear indication he was leaving it to his brother to re-direct conversation. Lovino knew he was in no position to argue.

"Ah, Papa, I got a German too. Mine's an assassin, best in-in the buissness."

"_Fratellone_, I don't think German's make the best assassins. Isn't that a job more for the chi- ah, Chinese?"

"Not'a necessarily, _ragazzo mio_. One time, I'a had'a nice Irish broad…she had'a the tits like melons, but'a blade in-a like'a viper. How's your German, Lovi?"

"He's good, Papa. So good, he don' even have a record in his name. The Cops call him _Weisse Teufel, '_cause he don't have no record."

Feliciano leaned forward, his eyes slits. "I've never heard of him."

"Good."

It was very good. If he was relatively unknown in the underworld nobody would know him when they saw him. He had a day job, after all, a cover to keep. But Lovino had seen him in action, and as it was he was happy with his current – obviously stepped-up – help. His father appeared approve as well.

"Lovi, that's somethin' I always know you be good a'. You got'a your priorities all right. You keep to yourself, stay'a all nice an' low-key. You not'a on the television every od'er day." He looked towards his younger son, who was smiling proudly. "Feli, is nothin' to be proud of. You'a thinka you gotta such a good place. Thata the best place to hide is in plain sight, but you're wrong."

"Papa, nobody suspects me! Everyone loves me! I help the poor, I'm a known philanthropist! When the time comes the public opinion will be so far in ma- ah, my favor, nobody will convict me!"

Romolo shook his head slowly. "You'a so wrong, Feli. They gonna catch you, an', an' don' think I donno what's a goin' on with-in Lovi and you! Yous'a gonna fight, and people are gonna get'a so hurt! They gonna come for you! Do they even know you got a brother in the buisness, _Don Veneciano_? Do they know about _Don Romano_ or is' he jus gonna be the small-time _Mafioso_ you want dead?"

Feliciano looked between his brother and his father, conflicted, and appeared as though he wanted to speak. He never got the chance.

"Don' worry Papa, there's not gonna be no fighting. Not in front'a my _bambino_." He gripped his unused salad fork tightly and made eye contact with his younger brother. Feliciano licked his lips, seeing in his sibling only what could be his. Their father would soon die, the dice would fall. They were empty words but they carried a heavy threat.

"An that's why'a you gonna get it all, Lovino. You gonna go places. You gonna grow this family. I love'a you so much Feli! But you gonna go to jail, they're gonna take'a your head if-in your not'a more careful! I want'a you outta this business, _ragazzo_!"

Feliciano smiled and nodded, his smile light and happy. It did not reach his eyes and that was how his father knew he was lying. The man sighed and turned toward his eldest. "You'a know how I feel about'a your brother?" Lovino nodded. It was no secret that the younger had been the favorite when they were children and though his focus had shifted to insuring the continuance of his eldest son's empire, he still loved the younger boy a bit more fiercely. "Take care'a him for me?"

Lovino nodded but did not meet his father's eyes. The tassels on the table cloth were the same ones that had been there since he was a child; the same ones his long-dead mother would tell him were just like his family.

_All the strings hang separately, like the factions of the family, but are held together at the base. That's your Papa, and when you get big and strong, you get to be the base and hold our family together. _

Of course, that was before Feliciano got ambitious.

Lovino met his younger brother's eyes, hardening them to convey the cold hatred that often bubbled – the hatred he could not at present seem to conjure.

"Don't worry, Papa. I'll take good care of him."

Feliciano smiled, playing with the butter knife resting against the rim of his pasta bowl. He bounced the light from the chandelier onto his brother's cheek. "He'll watch out for me, Papa, don't you worry. And I'll watch out for him to."

Romolo saw that look in his youngest child's eyes. He saw the callous, sadistic glint behind those orbs that he feared would one day consume the boy. He licked his lips and sent a worried glance at his eldest, who seemed to be beyond noticing it, or perhaps pointedly ignoring it.

"Because that's what brother's do, right?"

The legs of a chair screeched loudly against the floor. Lovino collected the dishes and headed towards the sink. "Right."

**A/N:** Yay! First Hetalia human AU! Big step for me. But yeah, this has been on my computer for a while. I wrote it a few months ago after two members of my family told me two versions of the same story in one day and_ then_ the _very next day_ there was a special on ID about the story I had just heard. Long story short, a long time ago (maybe, like, in the 70's), there was a Mafia War going on on Long Island between two factions of the families. That inspired a huge Mafia AU story in my head that begged to be written. Lovino and Feliciano, trapped in a power struggle. The Rightful Heir v. The Charismatic Favorite. This was as far as I got. I may continue this, depending on response and if I get or am given any decent ideas.

I apoligize for grammar mistakes that are not part of Lovino or Romolo's dialauge. I made their English shaky because they stick to the Italian sections of New York. Lovino's is pretty decent because he went to school in America and has and English-Speaking wife (any guesses who she is? It's obvious.) Romolo is a first generation American, so he only knows enough to get by. Yet they speak it at dinner, like good Italian-American's did back in the roaring 20's and the Depression (I haven't chosen an exact time period yet) and is why I, a fifth generation, do not speak Italian :/

So yeah, review if you want to see more!


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